Losing the Mundane
by audny-the-albatross
Summary: A musically obsessed girl, Joren of Stone Mountain, a girl who might or might not be from Diane Duane's Wizard series, and Hogwarts. The result of a very bored mind.
1. It Begins

Disclaimer: I do not own Joren of Stone Mountain, I do not own Kel, I do not own Zahir, or Vinson, or Garvey, or Quinden. Or Alanna.  
  
Ships: It's a little early for that, don't you think? Besides, they're almost all original characters, and it wouldn't tell much of what kind of story this will be. And I'm not even sure if there will be any ships, so there.  
  
Summary: Crossover between HP and TP. A music-obsessed girl (a bit like me, I know) who has planned her future as a musician gets a letter saying she is to attend Hogwarts. And Joren is transported to Earth when he dies. And I might decide to make Alex a wizard from Diane Duane's wizard series. I haven't decided yet. You have ideas, then review.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
IT BEGINS  
  
Music was her life. It had possessed her in the fourth grade, and while her friends' post-high school plans and favorite activities changed bi-monthly, hers did not. Her first and foremost dream and goal was to go into music, be it teaching, performing, or composing. Had she devoted a bit more energy to her classical studies and a shade less to her fiddling, she would be in America, attending Curtis Institute of Music. But she was not.  
It had upset her, when it came. She knew what she wanted, knew what she would be. It defied that, defied everything her life stood for. Her parents, her neighbors, her friends (those she could tell), had all been proud. She had been angry; still was angry. She did not want to learn magic.  
She convinced her parents not to send her to Hogwarts, just before another letter was delivered, the same as the first. This time her parents won.  
"You'll take your violin with you," her mother said firmly, "and you can still compose music."  
"But." she squealed, ".my cello. my piano."  
"Yes, well, we will consider sending your cello. I assume you will be taking your banjo?" her father asked mildly.  
She glared at him. "Of course."  
Stephen, her next-door neighbor, best friend, and the greatest student pianist she knew, loved the idea of Hogwarts. His brother, now twenty-six, he said, had attended Hogwarts. He'd hoped he would, too, but he hadn't been born a wizard. Both his grandparents on his father's side had been, but neither of his parents possessed any magic.  
"You'll encounter some trouble if you're Muggle-born," he told her after explaining what a "Muggle" was. "My brother did, even though our grandparents were wizards."  
"I don't know of any wizard relatives," she told him.  
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "Just don't let anything anyone says bother you."  
"Right," she replied dryly. Not that I would care, since I don't want to be there in the first place. "Come on. I only have a few more days here, and I wanted you to tell me what you think of my new work-in- progress."  
He sat at the piano obediently. After absently playing a few measures, he stood up and motioned at the bench. "You play it."  
"Sure." She sat down and began; within moments she had lost herself to the music.  
Stephen watched, astonished. The piece was by far her best; she had never written anything so beautiful as this. Glancing at the next page, he drew in his breath sharply. This was hard. There was no way she should be able to play this, not this quickly, not this well.  
She cut off abruptly, and he realized tha she had finished the written portion of the piece.  
"You do have magic," he told her, and was mildly amused to see her eyebrows snap together. "There is no way on earth you should be able to play something that technically difficult this quickly. Or musically difficult, for that matter."  
She recovered quickly. "Ah, but I wasn't on earth," she joked. "I was in heaven." Then, serious again, she asked, "What about the piece?"  
"It's out of my league," he told her honestly. "Keep composing."  
She looked down. "I will," she whispered.  
He reached out and hugged her. "Remember to write me. By owl, preferably. We get so few these days."  
"I will," she said again as she hugged him back.  
A week later was her eleventh birthday. She greeted Stephen with the warning, "Not a word to the others, okay? They'll think I'm fucking delusional."  
He looked at her sharply. He had never heard her swear before, in the decade that he'd known her. "Do they know you're leaving?"  
"They've been told that I'm going to a different school. They assume it's for music."  
"As they should-you're good enough, heaven knows. Have you bought your supplies yet?"  
"No. We're going tomorrow."  
"May I join you?"  
"Sure."  
"Thanks. I've never been to Diagon Alley before."  
"I figured as much". Reaching for a bunch of papers, she said, "I finished the piece." She handed the papers to him. It was the piece, twelve pages in all.  
" 'Broken Dreams'?" he asked, realizing for the first time the extent to which she hated the latest turn of her life.  
"Or 'Shattered Future'," she replied, shrugging. "It doesn't matter, really."  
"How about 'Legendary Farewell'?" he suggested.  
She thought about it, then nodded. "Change it when you get home."  
He looked back down and gaped. "Why?" he asked in a strangled voice.  
"Because you've been so helpful, so supportive. And because you've done it in a kinder manner than my parents. And you've been the greatest friend ever. I wouldn't be complete without you."  
He looked down. "Thank you," he said in a small voice.  
"I should be thanking you, not the other way around." She hugged him.  
"I am honored to have such a wonderful piece dedicated to me," he replied, hugging her back. When the doorbell rang, he met her gaze levelly. "I'll get it," he said. He admitted Raisa and Lilith.  
"Oh, Aideen, I'm so happy for you!" Lilith screamed as she hugged her fiercely. "You'll write me, won't you-and don't worry about using British post. My family can handle it."  
"Lilith, what in heaven are you talking about?" Stephen demanded.  
"She's got-" She glanced over at Raisa, who was heading towards the bathroom. "-magic, hasn't she? She is attending Hogwarts, isn't she?"  
"Why do you think that?" asked Aideen.  
"Well, dear, your ability with music-it's uncanny. And Aiko-Asha, sorry; she's not Aiko anymore-went to Hogwarts. Moira's older sister? Remember her?"  
"Of course," Stephen replied. "Asha was my brother's girlfriend when they were fourth-years, and also three years ago. I know Asha pretty well."  
"Just as you know Moira well," Aideen said.  
He nodded. "Wizard families with Muggle relatives tend to be fairly close-knit. Your family will soon be adopted into the collective."  
She grimaced. As the bathroom door opened, Lilith murmured, "Not a word to Raisa; she doesn't know anything about magic."  
"And you do? How is this?"  
Lilith shrugged. "As I said. I knew Moira, and if you practically lived at your friend's home, you'd pick up a lot of interesting information, too."  
The doorbell rang again and Raisa opened it to reveal Moira, Asha, and Stephen's brother, Marrs.  
"I just wanted to say congrats," Marrs said, and waved. "Happy birthday, Aideen."  
"Thanks," she replied, and he smiled and walked away.  
"And I'm just here to drop Moira off," Asha said. "Happy birthday."  
"Thanks," she replied again as Asha departed and Moira entered.  
"So, tell me," Moira commented. "Where are you attending school?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
A crappy beginning, this is. Oh well. I don't care. It sets up what I want set up. That being said,.  
  
.REVIEW. 


	2. It Continues

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Joren of Stone Mountain, I do not own Kel, I do not own Zahir, or Vinson, or Garvey, or Quinden.  Or Alanna.

**Ships:** It's a little early for that, don't you think?  Besides, they're almost all original characters, and it wouldn't tell much of what kind of story this will be.  And I'm not even sure if there will be any ships, so there.

**Summary:** Crossover between HP and TP.  A music-obsessed girl (a bit like me, I know) who has planned her future as a musician gets a letter saying she is to attend Hogwarts.  And Joren is transported to Earth when he dies.  And I might decide to make Alex a wizard from Diane Duane's wizard series.  I haven't decided yet.  You have ideas, then review.

~*~*~*~*~

ON THE WAY

            Aideen dozed through the first part of the ride to Hogwarts, and awoke when the door opened and a boy and a girl stepped inside.  They were about her age, possibly a bit older.  The boy had green eyes and brown hair tinged with gold.  He had pronounced features, a small mouth, and small ears.  The girl's eyes were light brown and she had straight shoulder-length black hair.  Her nose and ears were small and she had a full mouth.  Her chin was set defiantly, as though to contrast her vulnerable lips.

            "Hello," Aideen greeted them.

            "Hi," the girl said.  The boy smiled at her.

            "We thought you might like some company," he explained.  "May we sit?"  He spoke carefully and softly; his was a voice that didn't need to be raised to be heard.

            "By all means," she replied.  "Thank you for your company."

            They sat.  The girl was the first to break the silence.  "I'm Alex," she introduced herself.  "I prefer it to 'Alexis'.  This is Eric."

            "I'm Aideen."

            "That's a cool name.  What does it mean?"

            " 'Flame,' in Gaelic."

            "That's cool.  I was almost named 'Aelwen', which means 'fair brow' in Welsh.  Ridiculous name, that."

            "What are your full names?" asked Aideen.

            "I'm Eric Atli White.  My parents thought it would be amusing to have me be Eric the White instead of Eric the Red, as we are of his descent."

            "Atli murdered Gudrun's brother, did he not?"

            "And she killed her sons by him and fed him their hearts.  That would be the one."

            "You know your lore well," Alex offered.  "I'm Alexis Liyana Talon."

            "Aideen Duaa Fawr."

            "An interesting last name," the boy—Eric—remarked in his quiet manner.

            "No more than 'Talon'."

            "True."

            "Or 'Atli'."

            "I must concede the point."

            "What do you like to do?" asked Alex.

            "Music," she replied.

            "What kind?"

            "Classical, mostly.  Some traditional."

            "Do you play?"

            "Yeah, a little.  Mostly I compose."

            "Oh, cool.  What do you play?"

            "Piano, cello, violin, banjo, tin whistle, percussion, and organ.  Though I doubt I'll still be a pianist after this year," she added bitterly.  "No time, and there probably isn't a piano in the whole fucking school."

            "Oh, I'm sure there is.  You just need to want it enough."

            She looked up sharply.  "What do you mean?"

            "I'll have to ask Jordan—he's a friend," she explained.  "Jordan Mynydd Maen.  He's nineteen, and he's teaching at Hogwarts this year.  But I think I remember him saying something about that."

            "Or you could talk to your head of house, or the Head Boy or Girl.  They would probably be willing to help," suggested Eric.

            "Maybe," Aideen said dubiously.

            "You really don't want to be here, do you?"  Eric asked abruptly.  "You're not just upset about the piano, you don't want to go to Hogwarts."

            "No," she replied, meeting his trouble gaze levelly.  "Should I?"

            "Yes," he said unexpectedly.  "You live a dangerous life if you do not."  She didn't bother to ask him to clarify his meaning.

            "I _wanted_ to be a musician and composer," she told him hotly.  "If I had gone to Curtis—"

            "You would still have received the letter," Alex interrupted.  "Whether or not Curtis publishes the addresses of its students, it would have found you."

            "Evidently I am not allowed to choose my future for myself," Aideen snapped.

            "Your future is what you make of it, using what the past has taken from you."

            "That's easy for you to say."

            Alex sighed and ran a hand through her short midnight hair.  "It is now.  It didn't used to be."

            In response to Aideen's questioning look, she glanced at Eric and said softly, "There are some things no being can share with another."

            Aideen and Eric looked at her sharply.  Alex gave them a weak smile.  "No, nothing like that," she assured them.  "It just… hurts… to remember.  Psychological pain, not physical pain."

            "You too?" murmured Eric.  "Jordan was bad enough…"

            "Ah, yes, Jordan."  She smiled at the confused Aideen.  "He had some rather… extreme… issues when we first met him."

            "He'll always have issues," Eric interjected.

            Alex sighed.  "I suppose you're right.  It's such a shame, really—"

            "What sort of issues?"

            "Can't tell," Eric said firmly.  "He might, if you ever meet him.  But we can't."

            "Anyway, to answer your question, Eric—I don't know all the details of his past; in fact, I know very little.  So I can't tell you if it's the same as Jordan or not.  It's not 'me too', it's 'maybe me too'."

            "What's 'maybe me too'?" asked a soft voice from the door.  All three turned to stare at a young man with white-blond curls, icy blue eyes cut like gemstones into a perfectly shaped face, and dazzlingly white, straight teeth.  He was dressed in a dark blue polo shirt and khakis.  He lounged, leaning against the door with his arms folded.

            "Jordan!"  Alex cried, jumping up into his outstretched arms.

            "Happy to see me?" he asked.

            "Always," she replied.

            He smirked.  "Does that mean I can give you another lecture?"

            She scowled at him.  "You should know better than to ask."

            "Never," he disagreed.

            "I figured as much," she grumbled.  "What are you doing here?"

            "Speak of the devil and he appears," he said lightly.  Then, smiling: "I came to make sure you and Eric actually speak to other students this year."

            "Evil menace," Eric muttered.  "Has it ever occurred to you that we might not _want_ to speak to anyone else?"

            "Yes, many times," Jordan answered.  "But you know my past."

            "_She_ doesn't," he said, jerking his head in Alex's direction.

            "I know, and I apologize.  I would tell now, were we alone."  He did not look at Aideen, and she knew instinctively that no slur was meant.

            "Oh, I'm so sorry," Aideen apologized.  "Jordan, this is Aideen Duaa Fawr."

            "Jordan Mynydd Maen," he offered, extending his hand.  When Aideen took it, he surprised her by bowing and kissing her hand.  Alex laughed.

            "Jordan, why don't you tell me your past?"  Alex suggested.  "It's okay.  Her presence is unimportant."

            "How do you mean?"

            Alex looked down.  "She doesn't want to be here any more than we do."

            Jordan studied Aideen, who felt a blush spreading on her cheeks.  She looked away.

            "Why?"

            He spoke quietly, and it took her a moment to realize he was addressing her.

            "I was going to be a musician," she answered him, still not looking up.  "And a composer.  And now I can't.  I was _ready_.  I was going to begin my career when school started, and I've lost it.  All of it."

            "Not the same, then," he remarked to no one in particular.  "Start your career?  At eleven?  I would enjoy listening to you play sometime, and hearing one of your compositions."  His voice sounded sincere, not mocking.  She finally found the courage to look at him again.

            "Thank you," she whispered as he sat.

            "I grew up in a different world," he began.  "I lived in a country called Tortall.  I was from Stone Mountain.  My name was Joren, not Jordan.  Joren of Stone Mountain.  My father was Lord Burchard.  I am not certain as to where my… prejudices… came from, because although my mother was very conventional and my father held the beliefs of traditional medieval society in this world (women's inferiority to men, the rights of nobles not given to peasants), they both ruled Stone Mountain, almost jointly.  And though my father taught me that women are inferior, and that nobles had the right to do as they pleased, at the expense of others, he never indulged in the practice of bullying others for amusement, and I took the values to zealousy.

            "The world in which I lived was still a feudal world, and I, along with many boys (of noble birth) my age, I was training to be knight.  There was one lady knight in the realm, and in the world (excluding the Shang women, who fought something similar to karate).  Her name was Alanna the Lioness, the King's Champion.  There was a girl, Keladry of Mindelan, who wanted to follow in the Champion's footsteps.  I was filled with righteous anger"—he laughed at the word "righteous"—"that she—or any girl—should attempt to become a knight.  Women are inferior, I was taught, women are weak.  Women cannot fight.

            "I made her life a living hell, tried to get rid of her again and again.  I became a bully the minute she arrived: not just to her, but to others as well.  There is something called 'hazing'.  Here, it means something a bit different.  There, it meant they were to 'earn their way' by running errands for older boys.  I turned it into bullying.  Because she was there.  It snapped something in me; I was crazy.  Oddly enough, I had a crush on her at one point—actually, at the end of my training, at the time I was to take the Ordeal, and at the time I was transported here.

            "There is a Chapel, and in it a Chamber—the Chamber of Ordeal—in which the squires are tested for knighthood.  It is magical, a hammer, and anvil.  It crushes the unworthy, the bad, the weak, the failures.  Sometimes it kills them, sometimes it drives them crazy, sometimes it does worse.  I was a failure; I was weak and unworthy.  Had I not had a crush on Kel, I would have been killed.  But the Chamber relented.  It spoke to me: 'A chance,' it said, 'to redeem yourself.  A chance to save yourself before you die.'  Then it showed me what the Tortallans would soon know: its doors opening in the morning to show my lifeless body, my father confronting and threatening Kel, my funeral, with its sparse attendance.  My friends, as I knew them, laughing, along with my enemies.  Vinson, laughing in his dungeon when he heard the news, the disgust Garvey and Quinden felt for me, Kel's friends, laughing good riddance, and trying to convince her that my father was wrong, that she was not responsible for my death.  Only two of the students truly grieved my passing: Kel, for all that she hated me, and Zahir, whose friendship I spurned when he showed his loathing of the bullying Vinson, Garvey, and I practiced.  He was my only true friend.

            "Then I was sent here.  The Chamber made me a wizard, and gave me the magical knowledge of one who had attended Hogwarts for the seven years.

            " 'A test,' it told me, 'and a punishment: but mostly a test.  A test of how much you can change, here, where there is equality between men and women, between different peoples.  Where all, rich or poor, are treated alike; here, where bias and prejudice is always present, but socially unacceptable.'  Then it left.

            "I had communication difficulties at first.  Tortallan Common is more like Welsh than English, although it resembles both.  Now I can speak both properly, and I face no trouble but of my own devising.

            "That's my past, essentially.  I do miss Tortall, and I enjoy it here, but I really would like to see everyone in Tortall again before I die.

            "I hope I've done what the Chamber wants.  I'll never change completely, I know, and I'll never go back again, but I do ask of any god listening that Keladry learns that I am changed, and that I am very sorry for my past, that I wish to Mithros that she is now a knight.  And that I grieve for the lives I hurt and destroyed, hers before all others.  That I once had a crush on her, and that I can accept people for who they are.

            "My past… my past is much more ugly than I have painted it here.  Much, much more.  I cannot begin to speak of it."

            There was silence when he finished.  Then impulsively, Aideen reached out and hugged him.  After a moment he returned the hug.

            "Thank you," he told her as he withdrew from her arms.  "I needed that."

            She smiled a little.  "You looked as if you did."

            He was silent.  Then, "From the little I know of you, you are like Keladry in many ways."

            Now it was her turn for silence.  When she did not respond, did not recoil as he expected, he continued.  "Your spirit, your presence, your determination, your passion, your empathy…"  He trailed off weakly.  "You even resemble her looks."

            "Do you still have a crush on her?"

            He shook his head.  "I haven't seen her in two years.  She wouldn't remember me now, and if I enjoyed life more, I wouldn't remember her either.  Or if she does remember me, it will be as her enemy.  She will never grieve as she did before.  That part will be forgotten."

            "What were her friends like?"

            "Well, considering my own behavior, I'm not really to judge.  It seemed to me that they were obnoxious, though.  Her best friend, Nealan of Queenscove, was a university student who decided to switch and become a knight because he thought he owed it to his family name.  He started as a page five years late.  He has an unfailing sense of very dry humor.  He's obnoxious whenever he wants to be and enjoyed tormenting our training master.  He's a dramatist.  Then there's Owen; he's an annoying kid.  Always cheerful, and always energetic.  Not very talented either; can't use the staff worth beans, and not great at the sword or jousting either.  Seaver's quiet.  He's okay, I guess.  I didn't know him too well.  Merric is moderately quiet.  He talks more, but he's much like Seaver.  The Prince—Roald—is as quiet as Seaver.  He is careful to be fair to all, and to spend time with everyone so no one will see him as rude.  And Cleon.  Cleon and Kel were in love when I—when I died.  Cleon's like Neal, except his humor isn't dry at all.  He's likeable once you get past the talking, I suppose.  I didn't know him very well compared to Neal.  Or Owen."

            Aideen thought, mulling this over.  "I can't be too alike, then," she said finally.  "My friends are all musicians, all as serious about something as I am with music.  Some better in their chosen fields, some not as good, but all very serious, and silly, when we're together.  Like I was before I got the letter."

            "You don't want the magic."  It was a statement, not a question.  "Neither did I.  It does make your life easier, sometimes, but I still don't especially care for it.  I preferred my mundane life.  I have to be careful now.  I still fence, I still joust, I still wrestle, I still practice staff combat.  And archery.  And riding.  I have to make sure I don't use my magic to make me good at what I do.  Because that kind of good is sloppy, unpracticed, undisciplined.  It leaves the mind as weak and powerless as before, and often weaker.  It lessens the resolve, makes it so that if there isn't an easy way to get to it, then you're likely not to even try."

            "I have that problem," she whispered.  "My magic… it leaks out, when I'm playing, sometimes.  Not always, and not most of the time, but sometimes.  I thought we weren't supposed to be able to do magic without wands, but some people can do minimal amounts."

            He nodded.  "Exactly.  But your mind seems rather disciplined, I have to tell you."

            "Thank you," she replied.  "So… how old are you three?  Since I haven't found out about you two yet," she added, directing her statement to Alex and Eric.

            "I'm turning twenty tomorrow," Jordan said.  "They're both second-years."

            She nodded.  "Happy birthday," she told Jordan.  "Since I won't see you tomorrow."

            "Oh, don't be so sure," he teased.  "You just might."

            "If you say so.  I won't be anywhere you'll see me, though."

            "Oh?  Perhaps I can see you wherever you are.  Perhaps I don't need to be in the same room."

            She shuddered.  "Creepy thought."

            "And absolutely untrue.  So don't worry."

            "But be warned," Alex said.  "He has a tendency to show up when he's least expected."

            "Like this time?" she asked, grinning.

            "Be warned," Alex repeated.  "He has a tendency to show up when he's least expected.

            "And when he is least wanted," Eric murmured ominously.

~*~*~*~*~

I typed this one in a hurry, so please notify me of errors, grammatical, or mistakes of the plot where it makes no sense.  Like me right now, rambling on and on and on.

REVIEW.  I demand it of you.


	3. NOTICE

B/c my computer *frizzled* and completely died, and b/c my Dad is lazy, I lost all my files.  I had everything (the next couple of chapters) all typed up and printed out, but I'm lazy and I'm not getting things retyped very quickly.  Please bear with me.

Thanks,

Audny the Albatross


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